


Birthmarks

by AnxiousCoffee (TheHallowedAngel)



Category: Station 19 (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Comfort No Hurt, M/M, Not Beta Read, Sick Travis Montgomery, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHallowedAngel/pseuds/AnxiousCoffee
Summary: Travis isn’t doing so hot, but he has Michael to help him function.
Relationships: Michael/Travis Montgomery
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Birthmarks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChameleonCircuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChameleonCircuit/gifts).



> I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You read the tags, you know what you’re in for. That being said, enjoy the show ✌️
> 
> On another note: screw that last episode.

Michael woke to a half empty bed and the sound of heaving at around ten past two in the morning. He took a moment to blink away the haze in his eyes and let the darkness clear before he dragged his half-asleep limbs out of the covers and into the en suite. He found his husband draped pathetically over the toilet, one arm thrown over the rim. There was nothing more than a pair of briefs between Travis and the tiles. Another retch had Micheal rushing to his side, a frown pulling at his mouth as he watched Travis’s spine arch. Nothing hit the water.

Travis started to curse, but somewhere along the way it was lost in another heave. Michael found himself pressing hands against his spine; he felt Travis relax almost immediately.

Travis surrendered himself to a nauseous belch that tasted like the bottom of a well, wilting over the porcelain.

“I don’t feel good, baby.” he muttered, spitting something out into the water, then turning his head away to breathe as deeply as his exhausted body could manage.

“How long have you been in here?” Michael asked, tone soft, and tangled his fingers into Travis’s hair. Montgomery let out a contented grumble, pushing his head against Michael’s hands like a cat asking for more pets.

Michael chuckled, and Travis wanted so badly to press his cheek against Michael’s chest to feel the rumble of it against his face.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered, eyes closed. “Feels like hours, but probably a half of one. Maybe forty-five minutes.”

Michael clicked his tongue, sighing. He withdrew his hands and bent to press a kiss against the top of his husband’s head. Travis’s hair was damp and dark with sweat, but Michael didn’t mind. While his hands were free, Michael tore off a few squares of toilet paper and wiped Travis’s face clean, then flushing the toilet.

“Do you think there’s anything left in your stomach?”

Another pause, this one punctuated by an inhale-turned-hiccup.

“Hmm, I don’t know that either. Probably not, but I wouldn’t put money on it,” he snorted, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever said. It was only when watching Travis’s lips quirk into an attractive smirk that Michael noticed his freckles were starting to drown in a flush of red. He frowned again, and pressed the palm of his hand to Travis’s forehead. 

Travis’s skin was hot to the touch. _That’s definitely a fever._

“Darling, you’re burning up.”

Travis hummed in response, shifting his body to balance both arms in the toilet. He looked quite peaceful, to say he had probably just Exorcist-style puked for the better part of an hour.

Michael fussed his hair again, trying to keep him awake.

“You’re not sleeping here, come on. We’re going back to bed, you and your back freckle.” Michael gently pulled on an arm, and Travis didn’t put up too much of a fight. He let himself be pulled to his feet, standing mostly thanks to the arm Michael slipped around him.

“It’s a birthmark,” he said through a yawn, leaning against his husband as they crossed the threshold and stepped into their bedroom. He was eased down onto the edge of the bed, and then the trash can from the corner of the room was suddenly at his feet.

“Whatever it is, you’re both going to wait here while I go get you some water and some Advil.” Another kiss, this time on Travis’s forehead, before he padded out of the room.

“Can I have blue Gatorade instead?” Travis called after him, worming himself under the covers and pulling them tight around himself. He knew for a fact Michael would take them off of him as soon as he came back into the bedroom, so he was going to enjoy them as much as he can until then.

There was no reply, but Michael walked back in a few minutes later, with a bottle of Gatorade and two pills in his hands. He raised an eyebrow at the cocoon Travis had made of himself, shaking his head.

“Don’t think so, mister,” he chastised, setting the drink and the tablets down on the wooden nightstand. Michael tugged the covers off of Travis’s huddled form, throwing them to the floor at the foot of the bed. In response, Travis whined.

“Nooooo, it’s cold!”

“You have a fever, it’s not happening. Come on, sit up.” 

Travis shook his head, pressing his face into his pillow. Michael folded his arms over his chest.

“Travis Montgomery, don’t think I won’t sit you up myself.” He shot him a look, and Travis turned his head to peak at him from under his eyelashes. With a huff, he complied.

Travis pushed himself up in his elbows, swinging his legs back around and planting his feet back on the floor. He cradled his stomach with one arm, holding out his other hand for the ibuprofen. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Travis threw both of them to the back of his mouth. He chased them down with a swig of blue. Hoping his stomach would take it, he took a few more small sips before passing it back to Michael so it could be capped.

“Will you at least spoon me, then?” He asked, looking up at Michael with sad, brown eyes. Discomfort was etched into his face, and deep bags were setting under his eyes. There was more colour to his skin, for now, though. 

Michael nodded and smiled and said, “Of course.”


End file.
